Oooh Loverboy
by cleverlittlegingerbatch
Summary: John's home sick from a case and calls Sherlock, horny.  Might not be the best time, though.


"John, you stayed home from this case because you have a stomach flu. You are also aware that I prefer to text. I have been checking up on you periodically and Mrs Hudson says it has been 43 minutes since your last expulsion of vomit, which means, based on data I collected during the night, you have approximately 24 more minutes until the next time you have to use the loo. Now why are you calling me?" Sherlock hisses into the phone, moving a few steps away from the rather curiously positioned dead body at his feet. He's only been at the crime scene for a few minutes and, even though it's John at the other end of the call, he's irritated at the interruption.

"I'm hard, Sherlock." John purrs. Sherlock freezes. Did he... Is Sherlock hearing things? His mouth is hanging open and he snaps it shut. Lestrade is giving him a puzzled look; Sherlock waves a dismissive hand and moves farther off.

"John what on - "

"I've been thinking about you since you left." John rumbles - the disease has left his voice raw and lower than normal. Sherlock feels his cock twitch at the sound. "You looked so gorgeous this morning, taking care of me in that gray shirt of yours. Tighter than usual, isn't it?"

"Accidentally threw it in the dryer." Sherlock chokes out, amazed that he can say anything at all. His trousers are becoming increasingly tight as John speaks in that deep, gravelly voice. This is entirely untrue - Sherlock, knowing John's penchant for Sherlock's tight shirts, had gone out and bought an identical light gray silk shirt in a smaller size.

John chuckles. "Accident, really. You know, I bet that silk would feel amazing on my cock." Sherlock closes his eyes, desperately trying to shoo that mental image away. His John, naked, lying on their bed, Sherlock's shirt draped over him, with his hand..."

"Perhaps that can be arranged later. I'm at the crime scene just now -" Sherlock attempts to sound brisk and authoritative, but he knows that John can hear the breathy quality in his voice.

"Do you wish I was there?" John asks quietly.

Sherlock softens. "Of course. I'm lost without my blogger."

"At least you'll still get the post-case sex tonight." Sherlock can hear the smirk in John's voice. Sherlock's cock twitches more forcefully. "I can't wait to slide that coat off of you when you come home, while you untie that scarf you love so much. Then I'll undo all those little buttons so I can feel your skin under my fingertips..."

Sherlock's breath is starting to get shallower. He looks around for the most private spot he can find, ostensibly searching for more clues, just in case Lestrade asks where he's going. Round back of the house, he finds a patio shaded by a deck. Good enough. John is still seducing him with his voice.

"Mmm Sherlock I found your purple shirt. You wouldn't believe how nice it looks wrapped around my cock."

Sherlock's groan is strangled. He can see the scene perfectly in his mind's eye.

"God, John... tell me how it feels."

"Smooth. Expensive. My cock is so sensitive right now, so hard..." John whimpers a little and Sherlock's mouth goes dry. "It smells like you. God I love the way you smell." Sherlock can stand it no longer. He quickly looks around to make sure there's no one around before he unzips his trousers and pulls his dick out.

"God I'm so hard for you, John. Just your voice can do this to me... There's already precum on the head..." Sherlock gasps, and is rewarded for his honesty by John's shaky intake of breath. He wraps long fingers around his member, letting out a low groan as he stokes slowly from base to crown. The hand holding the phone to his ear is shaking. "I'm touching myself, John, touching myself while I think of you doing the same and it's so... fucking... hot..."

John's breath sounds like it's being dragged out of his lungs now. Sherlock's head is resting against the side of the house when he hears a buzzing from the other end of the line

"John what -"

"Vibrator. Surprised you haven't found it yet. Was going to spring it on your for our anniversary but now seems more appropriate." John whispers, sounding like sin on toast. Sherlock feels his knees buckle a little. John grunts and moans a little and Sherlock knows he's working inside his arse.

"Talk - tell me - " Sherlock begs as he twists his hand over his dick on a particularly hard stroke downward. He gasps at the sensation. It's been a long while since he did this himself, what with John living with him and all.

"Fuuuuck Sherlock it feels so fucking good. It's stretching me out and I can feel it - " John gasps and Sherlock deduces it hit his prostrate "Christ that's sweet..." John chuckles as if he can see the possessive look that comes over Sherlock's face. "Not as sweet as your thick cock though."

The obscene words in the rumbling voice of his lover are going to be Sherlock's undoing. His hand moves faster. "When I get home I'm going to give you such a fucking... I can't wait to get my cock inside you. I love when you tighten around my dick right before you come..." Sherlock tries to continue but feels his balls tighten and suddenly he's coming hard and fast. The sensation of the cool air on his sensitive cock almost brings him to his knees. He slides down the wall, panting. John, however, is not quite finished.

"Sherlock - "

"Fuck yourself with that thing, John." Sherlock coos into the phone. "Push it deeper inside, push it harder... now hold your cock, rub it, fuck your hand..." Sherlock pitches his voice low, where he knows John likes it. There have been many nights when Sherlock has coaxed and erection out of John using just his voice. "Come for me. Come now, John."

On the other end of the line, Sherlock hears his lover fall apart. Sherlock knows his eyebrows are twitching, his cock spasming as ropes of semen fly out into the purple shirt, John's hand tight on the bedspread. He hears a contented sigh and chuckles.

"I'll be home soon. Get some rest." Sherlock can almost hear John nod sleepily and hangs up. He returns his cock to his pants, zips his trousers, and returns to the body.

"Everything okay?" Lestrade asks as Sherlock flits around the body.

"Hm? Oh yes, quite. John says he's very sorry he couldn't be here this afternoon." 


End file.
